


Once More to Wish On

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: What happened that night, to make her think the next morning that it was over?Sawyer/Juliet, rated R.  Set between 5x9 (Namaste) and 5x10 (He's Our You).
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Kudos: 13





	Once More to Wish On

Once More to Wish On  
by eponine119  
February 16-18, 2020

He didn't come to bed. 

She heard the front door close, so she knew Jack had gone. She waited, sitting on the bed cross-legged, fiddling with the blanket's fraying edge. 

Yesterday they were happy. 

Just. Yesterday. 

Today, she was making his plans happen. Covering tracks. Playing it cool with the ex. Like it didn't even matter the green-eyed monster had come to stay. 

So she sat in the bedroom, thinking about her ex-husband. She thought about him under the bus, and after. She thought about before, when he cheated on her with reckless abandon and threw it in her face whenever possible. She thought about whether she had loved him. 

Not like this. Not like she loved James, and she did love him, so much it hurt, so much she couldn't bear to think it. But she would let him. She would let him cheat on her, in his confused mind or with his body or in his very soul. She would take whatever was left. And it would destroy her. 

She didn't know how he couldn't hear her heart cracking in her chest. 

Still he didn't come to bed. 

She let out an aggravated sigh, turned off the light, and lay down on his side of the bed out of spite. She curled up and inhaled the scent of him from his pillow and wondered why she was such a coward. She couldn't even go out there. 

She loved him, so much. 

She slipped through the shadows of the living room reading lamp. His head was tipped back against the wall. One leg splayed out in front of him. The book still open in his hand. 

She looked at him for a long, long time. Then she tilted her head to one side and nodded a little bit, deciding what to do. Gently, she took the book from him and set it facedown on the table. Her next move would have been to reach for the blanket on the back of the couch, but his eyes opened. 

He didn't move and he didn't speak but he looked at her. His eyes were dark in the dimness of the room. They widened at first as he blinked away the fog of sleep, and then he watched her. Recognizing. Questioning. 

His lips looked soft and dry. But if she kissed him, he would taste the salt tears and he would know.

He drew in a deep breath. He really was tired. She looked at the lines in his face, under his eyes. In her mind, she stroked her thumb along that soft, deep spot in his cheek. His eyes were still fixed on her, drinking her in, and she didn't know where to look. 

“Juliet,” he murmured, reaching for her, finally, his long fingers tangling through the ends of her hair. She almost wished he'd called her Blondie instead. Blondie wouldn't be so scared right now. 

She moved her head so her hair slipped out of his fingers. Pretended this was normal. “You didn't come to bed.” 

“Had a lot to think about.” 

She could live inside that voice. 

“Come up with anything?” 

He blinked at her like a cat, and his smile curled charmingly. “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” she said softly, simply. Like it was a fact, a foregone conclusion. 

And then she did touch his face, just for a second. Her hand shook when she withdrew it. Did he see any of this? But his eyes were fuzzy and intense on her. Looking at the thin fabric of her nightgown stretched across her chest, then looking in her eyes. She felt the heat between their bodies. 

She wanted him so much it ached. If this was it, would it be so bad? Once more to wish on? Once more for goodbye? It would be so easy to let him. 

To let herself. 

“Come to bed, James,” she said, and tried to walk away. 

“Hey,” he said, and caught her hand. Pushed his fingers through the spaces between hers, and folded them over. Locking them together. She looked at him. He pressed his mouth to their joined hands, and a little sound escaped her lips, and that's all it took. 

The tension between them ignited. 

Her other hand reached down, pressing against the hard heat in his jeans. He made that feral sound in the back of his throat that she loved. 

Then he was out of the chair and she looked up at him. He picked her up, hands sliding underneath the cotton nightdress, holding her against him. She wrapped her legs around him and closed her eyes. She expected to hear the furniture being toppled, kicked out of the way, and then her back would hit the wall. He'd take one hand from her thigh to shove his jeans down and then – 

“Hey,” he said again. She opened her eyes. “Where'd you go?” he asked. 

“Please, James,” she said. 

“Not til you get out of that head of yours. I want you here. With me. If we're doin' this.” 

If. 

It must have showed on her face. All the doubts. “Hey,” he said again, soothing this time, and she saw the panic in his eyes. He let her go and she slid down against him. Her feet touched the bare wood floors. Now he just had one hand gingerly against her back. “You're shaking.” 

“I'm fine,” she said. She took a deep breath and tried to get her steel back. To look at him with her calm, steady gaze. “It's fine. Come to bed, James.” 

“What's goin' on, Blondie?” 

She died a little more inside. Isn't this why she'd come out here, and awakened him? He was still hers. Right now. She could fix this, too, she could change this.

“It's okay to be scared,” he said, searching her eyes. 

“'m not scared.” 

“Huh. Me either,” he said. Lying, they were both lying, and they both knew it. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tight with his body hot against hers. It was all she had wanted. For him to touch her, to tell her with his body that it was all going to be all right. 

“Now we're going to bed,” he said. He let her go and she stumbled back a step, suddenly unsteady. And cold again. 

His boots followed the slap of her bare feet. She slipped back beneath the covers, watching him as he kicked his jeans away and threw his shirt on the floor. She tried to memorize every line, every shadow. How many more nights would there be like this? What was going to happen to them, even if they stayed together? Where was any of this going to end up? 

He slid into the bed, their bed. And he started to roll on top of her, his hand finding her breast and making her gasp. He still hadn't kissed her, and she thought it might be all she ever wanted. Her body moved to accommodate his, all of this so familiar and so real. This was their way. And tonight he burned inside of her, and tonight it didn't take much to set either of them off. 

He lay heavy against her, breathing hard into the side of her neck. But then he looked at her, and said, “What's wrong?” 

“Hold me tonight.” 

“You got it,” he murmured, and they shifted so their bodies fit together. He wrapped those strong, warm, arms around her and she could almost breathe again. Almost relax. 

“And maybe kiss me, James?” Her voice sounded so small to her own ears. 

But he didn't. Because his breath was already soft and even against her skin, his body relaxed, lost to sleep. 

It was too late. 

(end)


End file.
